


i'll see your rainbow bridge and raise you a box of poptarts

by Swing Set in December (swing_set13)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), Thor (2011)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Hot Asgardians Fall From the Sky, M/M, Stiles and Scott are bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-10
Updated: 2012-08-10
Packaged: 2017-11-11 19:36:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/482142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swing_set13/pseuds/Swing%20Set%20in%20December
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles just wants to finish his thesis, he's really not prepared to make first contact with gods.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'll see your rainbow bridge and raise you a box of poptarts

**Author's Note:**

> MIDGARD HIJINKS AHOY!

The first time they meet it does not go well. Then again, the motherfucker appeared out of nowhere in front of Stiles, causing him to swerve at 60 MPH in the middle of the fucking desert. Burning rubber and the acrid smell of smoke and ozone permeate the air when Stiles steps out from his beloved, albeit now dented Jeep.

“Did we kill someone?” asks Scott from the passenger side of the Jeep, his unruly hair making him look even more hang dog. “I did not sign up for extra college credits to be an accomplice to murder. Even if your dad is the sheriff.”

“We did not kill anyone,” says Stiles, frowning. “Pass me the flashlight.”

“This is so the beginning of finding a body,” grumbles Scott but tosses Stiles his canvas shoulder bag. Digging past his notebook and trusty taser, he finds his maglite.

“Shut up,” whispers Stiles harshly.

“I knew trying to find a rainbow bridge in the middle of the desert was a bad idea,” gripes Scott.

“It’s not a rainbow bridge,” huffs Stiles, waving his light towards Scott. “It’s a-“

“Einstein-Rosen Bridge, yeah, I know,” parrots Scott. “But that won’t help us if we are in jail.”

“When did you become the snarky one?” asks Stiles. “That’s my thing. That at making ground breaking astrophysics discoveries that will get me my PhD.”

A low groan, almost a growl comes from the left side of the Jeep and Stiles winces.

“You’re still legally at fault,” says Scott.

“Get the first aid kit, maybe it’s a dog,” says Stiles.

“It looked like a guy.”

Stiles worries his bottom lip. It did look like a guy. But Stiles likes to live in denial. He steels himself for the worst as his flashlight breaks into the darkness. Only for him to nearly stumble over a pair of legs.

“Shit,” he yelps as his flashlight moves up the body sprawled on the sandy ground in the middle of a circle of unfamiliar runes. “Oh my God, please don’t be dead.”

He kneels over the unconscious body, the beam of light from his maglite tracing the contours of the sharply cut jaw of the tall mess of a man lying unconscious in the sand.

“Come on, open your eyes. Please. Come on, big guy,” he murmurs softly, his hand reaching out towards the stranger’s face, only to have a band of steel warmth grasp his hand and the greenest eyes Stiles has even seen snap open. Their eyes hold for what seems like an eternity before it’s broken by Scott’s noisy footsteps.

“Stiles?” asks Scott, holding the first aid kit like a shield.

The man lets out a deep growl before pushing Stiles away into a gangly sprawl on the desert floor. He staggers up, shakily, looking at the sky and his surroundings with suspicion.

“Hammer,” he growls, his eyes flashing an electric blue. His head turning left and right, stumbling to the right. His legs falling from under him.

“Yeah, we can tell you’re hammered,” says Stiles as Scott inches towards him to help him up.

“What are we going to do?” asks Scott, trying to whisper but it comes off loud in the stale desert air. A breeze picks up catching Stiles’ eye as the runes start to blur in the sand.

“Shit,” curses Stiles, fumbling for his bag, using the pale light of the Jeep’s headlights to find his light meter. “We need soil samples, light readings-“

The mystery guy has stopped stumbling around and is now starring at the sky.

“Stiles, we need to get him to a hospital,” urges Scott with a worried frown.

Stiles casts another look at the guy before scooping is some sand into a sample bottle.

“He’s totally fine, I mean, he’s fine as in okay not just good-looking fine,” says Stiles, jotting down a reading from his light meter. “Though he is easy on the eyes.”

Scott shoots the guy another look. “He looks concussed. Like that time I hit you with a lacrosse ball but way worse.”

“He’s totally fine-“

“UNCLE!” shouts the scruffy looking handsome stranger, looking up at the stars. “UNCLE! OPEN THE BRIDGE!”

Stiles and Scott share a look. Stiles sighs in defeat, packing up his kit into his bag, his hand snagging on his taser.

“Ok, you take him-“

“I am not going alone!” hisses Scott.

The guy turns to them arguing, looking ten times more frustrated.

“YOU! What world is this?”

Stiles and Scott gape at each other, mouthing the stranger’s words.

“Listen, buddy,” Stiles starts off, moving closer, reaching out to touch his shoulder. “We’re going to get you some help. Medical help. Probably psychiatric help-“

His hand barely grazes the guy’s muscled shoulder when he is shoved off and the stranger growls at him.

“Did you just growl?”

“Answer me! What realm is this? Alfheim? Nornheim?”

“It’s California and you better lay off the shoving, dude,” Stiles glares, pulling out his taser as a warning.

The man snorts.

“You dare threaten D’rek with so puny a weapon-” he growls crowding into Stiles’ personal space until Stiles fires, the electrified wires shooting out of the taser, zapping him in the chest. He convulses and falls to the ground unconscious.

Scott drops the first aid kit in shock. “ _Dude_.”

“What?!" replies Stiles looking at the twitching guy on the ground. "He was freaking me out.”


End file.
